The Scent of Eggs and Kvas
by Devin Trinidad
Summary: Alina wakes up to a throbbing headache and a strange surprise.


Last night was a bad idea, was Alina's first thought as she found her head throbbing and her throat aching with thirst. Before her eyes opened, she heard the slight movement of someone leaning over her along with a telltale chuckle.

"You don't look too well."

"I don't recall inviting you in." Her voice more growl than actual words.

"You don't have to; if I can make my way through the most dangerous of waters, than I can surely navigate my way through your abode, humble as it may be."

Alina refused to roll her eyes. To do so would reward her insufferable companion with a reaction. That and well…

"Ugh—" she groaned as she tried to block the stabbing pricks of light that assaulted her eyeballs "—what in the name of the Holy Saints is going on?"

Opting not to abuse her vision for the trivial, she decided to take everything in by her other senses. She felt fabric (her clothing on her person, obviously, which was a good thing), heard the barely muffled chuckles of her not-really-friend as he quickly closed her curtains, tasted some kind of terrible aftertaste of…something, and she smelled…

"You did not," Alina groaned. With what little strength she had, she managed to sit up straight and glare with all her might in what she assumed to be in her friend's direction. "Nikolai, please don't tell me you used the last of my eggs."

"Pfft, no!" Affronted by her accusation, the blond placed one of his gloved hands over the top of his heart. His eyes, though, glittered with mischief and a promise for more tricks. "I bullied your lapdog into making some for me."

"Using my eggs!"

That last part stretched her vocal chords to an impossible range. As a result, she coughed up a lung.

"Using your eggs." Nikolai confirmed by pointing at a tray that lay on top of a nearby desk. The tray itself held a generous helping of an omelet, neatly buttered toast, and a glass of water. "You should be thankful, it's not every day that the King of Ravka helps a damsel in distress by providing her with eggs."

Alina fell back onto her bed, fully aware that doing so would only exacerbate her weakness.

"Eggs," she mumbled crossly. "Eggs that you had my husband make me."

"I know, right? The very idea is so romantic!"

"The fact that my husband makes me breakfast even if it was already a given or the fact that you bullied him into doing it?"

"My dearest Sankta!" If Alina hadn't known him for so long, she would have been fooled into thinking that he was actually gasping in outrage. As it were, she just scoffed at his pretense. "How dare you accuse me of such a heinous misdeed! I merely persuaded him to do so."

"Did you also convince him to leave the house so that you can accost me while I'm unconscious?" Lazily, she raised her arms over her head to gesture at her defenseless figure to further emphasize her point. "What other salacious misdeeds shall I also accuse you of doing?"

"Can I tell you something?"

Before she could so much as curl her hand into a fist, the blond had already leaned over her prone form and whispered into her ear.

"You kind of, and pardon my bluntness, lack the imagination for the idea of romance."

Alina squinted at the Ravkan King in what could only be described as exasperated indignation with just a touch of curiosity.

"Your point?"

"I think your getting married to Mal just sucked the fun out of you."

Alina opened her eyes to see that the Ravkan King had leaned away from her. If she squinted through the pain that pulsed and reverberated through her head, she could see the faint outline of the downturn of his lips.

"Did the gentry teach you how to pout? If so, you're lacking the reason why I would feel sympathy for you."

Nikolai gasped and fell on top of Alina without any regard for her discomfort…or mounting level of violence that she was keen on enacting.

"Oh my! No sympathy for me? To where has thy kindness wandered my wondrous Sankta? To whom must I seek comfort when I'm feeling bored?"

This was getting too much.

"If you don't get off me within the next five seconds, I will personally make sure that the Lantsov line will never be continued."

"I'll adopt."

"Neither the public nor the gentry will accept that."

"Hmm—" he pretended to ponder for a moment "—but I'm king. Therefore, what I say goes."

"I thought that worked only for princes."

"Kings are merely princes, but with far more power and even more ill-fitting clothing. Besides, it always worked for the great scourge of the seas and a little known puppy."

Alina sighed.

Since it appeared that Nikolai wasn't going to be moving any time soon, the former savior of Ravka decided to make do. She squirmed a little to make herself comfortable and let her fingers lazily sift through his dark blond hair.

"Why are you here, Nikolai?"

"I do believe that I already told you. Boredom."

"And here I thought that being a great king would have been more than enough excitement."

He shrugged. For once, his posture seemed solemn, tired. The weight over Alina's body seemed to become heavier as he sagged and wilted like the dainty flowers in the autumn.

"Can't I go visit some old friends?"

"Out of the blue? And after so many years of the occasional letter and presents for the children?" She raised a slender eyebrow, feeling worn. "We're both getting older, Nikolai."

"Pfft, so you say." Neither the bite nor the bitterness in his voice didn't go unnoticed.

The fingers in his hair stilled as she pretended to inspect his head full of lustrous hair.

"I can see just a hint of silver in your hair."

"It's too dark in here," he pointed out. "And before you say a word, it's for your benefit, if you remember, not mine."

Suddenly, he rolled over so that he lay right next to her, a scrutinizing look on his handsome face.

"Why were you drinking so much, anyway? I can't imagine drinking kvas until you're thoroughly intoxicated is a good example for the children. Unless, of course, you're teaching them the dangers of alcoholism."

She groaned.

Stared at the ceiling.

Still, Nikolai kept his hazel eyes trained on her form; he kept his face blank. How cruel, Alina thought to herself. Even now, even when years passed since the last time she had set foot inside of the royal palace, she could sometimes remember how it felt to put up a façade that she was something more than the poor orphan of Keramzin. More than an unnamed soldier of an army.

That she was supposedly the Savior of Ravka.

The Sun Summoner.

Enemy of the Darkling.

"Aleksander," she mumbled more to herself than she did to her companion. "Aleksander died today."

Nikola's body tensed before relaxing.

"Among others."

"Yes, among others."

For a while, the both of them just lay there; time no longer mattered.

They thought about the past, of the battles that ravaged their psyches, killed their friends and allies. They thought about the years that crept on them both, how the sands of time had wrinkled their once supple skin and graced their heads with strands of silver. (In Alina's case, they were already there).

"I don't know why I drank…It was more out of a sense of duty and obligation then an impulse. A way to celebrate the end of the war. A way to…" She let her voice trail off as she tried to think of something suitable to say. Unfortunately, all the words she should have said were used a long, long time ago. It was all a moot point anyway; she was never one for words. "Is that why you're here, Nikolai?"

She felt Nikolai shrug.

For that, Alina felt grateful.

For the better part of half an hour, the duo just lay on the bed. There were no untoward jokes or reminiscing of the past. They just reveled in each other's warmth and company. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Alina sat up, stretched, and moved.

She had long since felt the throbbing in her skull lighten from horrendous pain to a pinprick of static that was more annoying than cumbersome.

"Are you going to enjoy your eggs?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"Nothing, just wondering if you know that it's against strict protocol to eat without the king at the head of the table."

Alina stifled a chuckle.

"Should I be flattered that you think my rickety bedside desk is an appropriate table or worried that your standards have sunk so low?"

"I think you should be more worried about the state of your eggs…or lack thereof if I have something to say about it."

Alina chuckled before playfully flicking his nose.

"Don't even think about touching my eggs. I might just make you fix my bed without eating."

Scrambling faster than how Mal cooked her eggs, the king managed to join her for a late midafternoon breakfast without another word.


End file.
